


Thunderstorms

by keeperofthefour



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Jumin soothing her, MC being scared, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25521562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeperofthefour/pseuds/keeperofthefour
Summary: This is set during Jumin’s route, the first night she stays with him (incidentally, the night he kisses her in front of Sarah Choi).Nothing explicit, no warnings or tags, unless you’re afraid of thunderstorms like our poor MC.
Relationships: Han Jumin/Main Character
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	Thunderstorms

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr @truth-be-told-im-lying  
> Thanks for reading!

The night he kissed her, a thunderstorm raged through the city.  
Tossing and turning in an already restless sleep, goosebumps erupted on her skin when that first rumble of thunder rattled the window in her room. Though the heavy draperies had been drawn to block out the city lights, each time a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, she saw it. And she panicked.

She _hated_ thunderstorms. 

Back before she'd found herself in this predicament, when she lived in her own apartment with tenants she knew and loved, she would knock on the door of apartment 45A. Trembling and teary-eyed, she always knew the gentle neighbor lady would take her in and wrap her in a warm, weighted blanket. They shared a pot of tea and passed the time with quiet conversation meant to distract and occupy her mind. During the particularly bad storms, they would hurry to the ground floor of the building with the other tenants and huddle together for safety until the threat had passed. 

But in Jumin’s penthouse, she had no such comfort. She was embarrassed as much as she was frightened. She knew the fear was irrational, but the knowledge did little to assuage her growing panic. Rain pelted in angry sheets against the window and the wind began to howl as the storm’s intensity increased. One particularly loud clap of thunder had her leaping out of bed, trembling as she ran to the door and out into the main area of Jumin’s home. 

A quick scan of the layout told her that his bedroom must have been the one across the kitchen, so she scurried through the darkness on bare feet and tapped softly on his door.

“Jumin?” she whispered, laying her palm and an ear against his door. She couldn’t hear much over the sound of the wind and rain, so she tapped again and turned the knob, letting her fear override any sense of decorum. 

His room was pitch black, save for the intermittent lightning that illuminated the relaxed angles of his face each time it struck. She stood at his door and watched him, feeling silly and out of place. _You’re ridiculous_ , she chided, hands clutching the doorknob with a white-knuckle grip. _He’s not going to care that you’re afraid. He’s a grown man who barely knows you, and you’re a grown-ass woman who–_

“What’s the matter?” Jumin’s deep baritone, raspy and sleep-laden, called out to her from where he lay upon his bed. The soft rustle of sheets against his skin was a strange comfort to her, and she tried in vain to steady her breathing, laying a hand across her chest to feel her heart hammering away. 

“I…” she faltered, sudden tears burning her eyes and making her nose tickle. 

Jumin sat up abruptly when she sniffled and walked to where she stood, extending a steady hand. Instead of taking it right away, she huffed out a defeated chuckle, shaking her head.

“What is it? Are you afraid of the storm?” he asked gently, reaching behind her to turn the dimmer switch just enough to fill the room with a gentle glow. When he pulled back, he allowed his fingertips to graze the soft skin of her arm. She stepped forward and buried her head in his chest, sobbing.

Stunned, Jumin stiffened at her touch, then tentatively folded his arms around her waist. “There, there,” he crooned, stroking her hair, though his own heart had begun hammering in response to her touch. “You’re safe here with me.” 

His voice was calm, soothing, and she began to relax but kept her face pressed against him, feeling quite ridiculous. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled against the silk of his pajamas.

“For what?” he asked, using his thumb and forefinger to lift her face to meet his gaze. His smile was gentle and reassuring, and he wiped away the tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “Your fear may be a bit irrational, but it doesn’t invalidate how it makes you feel. I, too, was terrified of thunderstorms when I was young.”

He moved to open the door and led her to the kitchen, offering her a seat at the long marble top island. She perched on one of the stools and propped her elbows on the counter, watching as he pulled two glasses down from the cabinet and a bottle of wine from the chiller. “This calls for one of my favorite vintage wines,” he announced, uncorking the bottle with practiced ease. She watched, mesmerized, as he poured two glasses and handed one to her with a nod and a stone-faced wink. “Chateau Rayas Chateauneuf du Pape Rhone.” 

His flawless French accent left her slack jawed, and he tilted his glass toward hers for a toast. “Red wine. The best that money can buy. Taste it,” he said before lifting his own glass to his lips for a sip. He closed his eyes and trilled the flavor on his tongue before swallowing with a low, satisfied groan. “Perfect temperature. Perfect occasion.” He grew serious as his grey eyes fell upon her again. “Perfect company.” 

His confession was followed by an exceptionally loud rumble of thunder, and she shouted in response, jumping from her seat across from him to bury herself against him again. He had to chuckle. She was afraid, yes. But so adorable he could hardly stand it. As she trembled in his arms, he hummed a quiet tune, tucking her hair behind her ear so that he could press his lips there for her to hear him more clearly.

He felt the curve of her smile against his chest and the vibration of her chuckle before she spoke. 

“I know that song,” she confessed. “My grandma used to sing it to me when I was little.”

She hummed along with him, her pulse returning to a normal rhythm as she synced her breathing with his; slow and steady. He was a warm, strong, and comforting presence. A protector in her moment of weakness. She thought of the events of the last few days and what a whirlwind it had all been. She missed her sweet neighbor, but found a different sort of ease in Jumin’s arms. They stood together in the kitchen, swaying to the hum of their combined voices and the sweet, juvenile lullaby. 

The storm gradually subsided, but they remained in an embrace. The rain alone was soothing, pattering against the floor to ceiling windows, rolling down in rivulets against the clear panes of glass. Jumin lifted her hand and laced their fingers together, leading her to the window in his living room. It was the largest one in the penthouse, overlooking the cityscape. 

“I hope wherever Elizabeth the Third ran off to, she’s safe and dry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. 

Elizabeth the Third. 

His beloved cat.

She groaned and looked away from him, more embarrassed than ever. Here she was, taking his time and attention when he was probably more worried about his sweet feline companion than this crazy adult woman who woke him because of a little thunderstorm. 

“Jumin, I’m so sorry. You must be worried sick about her,” she offered, laying a hand upon his shoulder, sympathetic eyes searching his face. When he looked at her, his fatigue and worry were obvious. The darkness under his eyes, the watery grey irises that shone in the dim light of his living room. His flustered blush, painted high on his cheekbones. He carded a hand through his hair and nodded.

“I am. But I must confess, you’ve been a welcome distraction. Elizabeth the Third is an intelligent animal. I’m sure she’s found a place to weather the storm, and she will come home soon.” He turned to her and placed a palm against her cheek. She leaned into it and closed her eyes, a serene, sleepy smile curving upon her lips. 

Without a second thought, Jumin leaned down to kiss her for the second time that day. He was convinced that her lips were made to mold to his. Plush, sweet, and impossibly soft, they felt like silk against his, and she met his intensity, rising up on her toes to press herself deeper into the kiss. Small hands fisted into his pajama top, pulling him close. His own large hands splayed across the small of her back, lips parting to allow velvet tongues to meet and caress one another, her quiet moan lost between them. 

Desperate for oxygen, she pulled away, but Jumin continued to press small kisses along her chin and jawline, drawing a giggle from her lips. 

“I think...if you kiss me like that each time there’s a storm…” she trailed off in a gasp when his mouth met with the sensitive skin of her neck, “I won’t be so afraid anymore…”

He hummed just below her earlobe before pressing his lips there as well. “Is that so?” he murmured. “Then I’ll have to be sure to remain close by…” a line of kisses peppered across her cheek, upon the corner of her mouth, “in case of any more inclement weather. I wouldn’t want you to be frightened and alone.”

“Elizabeth the Third,” she reminded him. He stopped his gentle ministrations and nodded, closing his eyes. “I’ll help you look for her tomorrow. And I’m sure everyone else will, too. I have no doubt she’s safe. A beautiful cat such as her, someone has had to take her in and give her shelter,” she assured him.

“Yes, of course.” He paused. “The morning will be here before we know it. And I think the storm has passed. You really ought to try and get some rest.”

As if on cue, she yawned, raising a hand to her mouth and closing her eyes. “Yes, of course.” She stood on tiptoe to press her lips against his once more in a chaste, good night kiss. “Thank you for helping me, Jumin. I’m sorry that I woke you.”

He shook his head, the blush rising now to the tips of his ears. “No apologies, please. I want to be there for you. I’m glad that you came to me,” he confessed, his voice low and serious. “Please don’t hesitate to wake me again, should another storm keep you awake.”

He walked her to the door of her room and pulled her against him for another kiss, unable to restrain himself. 

Though she would have loved nothing more than to invite him in, she gathered strength and forced herself to push him away gently, both of them panting, breathless.

“Goodnight, Jumin.” She slipped quietly inside her room and closed the door, leaving him slack-jawed and dizzy on the other side. 

He took a moment to gather himself before retreating to his own room, secretly wishing for another storm to brew.


End file.
